Cogitations 2
by SadeLyrate
Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas, thoughts, emotions hard to relay via that media...2nd Season. Updates some time after the fact.
1. In My Time of Dying

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: I just can't keep my grubby fingers away from the lovely Winchesterverse that, alas, is the property of Eric Kripke/CW/the mysterious 'them'. Apologies to all suffering parties.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
201: In My Time of Dying**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

He remembers enough to know he's lucky to be able to rise and walk on his own. There's a shadow of ache, hovering just at the edge of his senses, held at bay by, he supposes, a platoon of painkillers.

He can't remember how long it's been.

He can remember, however, with curious clarity, the crash, the cabin, the Demon. Its lies, his fears. Sam and Dad. Every little thing of the last two days is painted in sharper detail than he thought possible across the canvas of his memory. It's in the past now, though, and none of it matters as long as he's with his family.

They're not with him, and worry touches him, renewed. He can't remember how badly they were hurt.

But he's fine. Whatever the Demon did, besides hurting like hell, wasn't probably that bad. Papercuts could hurt worse than a knife in the gut, after all. Sam might probably know why. None of his bones feel broken, his movements remain unhindered, his senses perfectly fine.

The few people in the hallways of the hospital are busy, ignoring him, so he figures that's another proof for not exactly being in the line for 'Miraculous Healings'. A shadow of a suspicion flits at the outskirts of his sentience, but the light of his needs and fears demand all his attention.

They don't help him in finding either Sam or John, though, so he locates the stairs and a nurses' station. Someone there's bound to help him.


	2. Everybody Loves A Clown

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.  
Disclaimer: All the pretty angst within is the property of Eric Kripke and CW.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
202: Everybody Loves A Clown**   
_by Sade Lyrate _

_(I wrote, just like everyone else and their aunt, a tag to the end of ELAC.  
This, however, intrigued me more.)_

It's been a week.  
A week since the fire.  
A bit more since the crash.

He hasn't told Dean about the stuff their Dad asked him to fetch. He hasn't told Dean about their Dad's plans to summon a demon. He hasn't told Dean he brought their Dad all he asked for, delivered all that stuff despite how angry he was.

At Dad. At himself. At the Demon.  
At everything.

He wishes Dean doesn't know all that. He wishes Dean doesn't piece it all together. He wishes he could explain where the Colt is.

He hasn't told Dean how scared he was, waking up alone. Remembering. Listening to the doctors, the nurses. Seeing the Impala. Being helpless. Learning of the reaper. Realizing he could do nothing. Finding Dad.  
Every breath in-between and afterwards.

He tries to sleep because he has to. He eats because he's supposed to. He tries to reach out and draw Dean out of his shell because he knows that pretending the pain away is not the right way.

He realizes, distantly, that he's not dealing well with everything that's happened, either, but that note is buried under the rubble of everything else.

He acknowledges, on some level, that burying himself in John's research, his notes and belongings is just as wrong as Dean hardly leaving the Impala's side. That it's all nothing but a feeble distraction.

But he doesn't know what else to do.


	3. Bloodlust

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Not mine, not mine, just not mine...

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
203: Bloodlust**  
_by Sade Lyrate _

_(I do not work well with episodes of uneven numbers...)_

The words slipped easily out of his mouth, careless, considering. His instincts picked up the pace in their demands for him to just get the hell _away_, no matter how, as the woman leaned closer.

There was a glint in her eyes, a slight smile on her lips. Not close enough to touch. Not yet. But vampires were faster than cheetahs.  
He didn't look at her, fingers twining in the ropes binding his wrists, cold certainty settling in the pit of his stomach.

"Fine..." _Can cheetahs purr?_ "You know what I'm going to do?"

All the options he could come up with were far from pleasant, eyes resolutely not looking at her or the man, Eli.

"I'm going to let you go."

The murmured words took him by surprise, the scenario offered not one his mind had conjured. He couldn't help but look at her, nothing about her suggesting jokes or lies. _"Let go"?_

She drew back, holding his eyes.

"Take him back. I've got a mark on him."

For the second time in the last five minutes, his heart was grasped in terror's cold grip, the meaning behind the words sinking in.

_"Once a vampire gets your scent, it's for life."_

She could find him, track him down, wait for his act to slip...   
...and with him, Dean.


	4. Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.  
Disclaimer: Just thinking I might manage to catch something true about Kripke & co.'s character is enough for me.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
204: Children Shouldn't Play With Dead Things**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

His arm aches, pinpricks of pain flashing into pikes every time he dares move it. The forests flow outside, silence reigns within, few words shared, lost, the weight of so many more on their souls and shoulders. The car hums steadily, the wheels eating the never-ending black serpent coiling into the horizon like Destiny's path. There's a while of white noise, murmuring over the thoughts and troubles in his mind and memory, trying to lay to rest nightmares and fears.

The thrum of it all lulls him, sleep seducing with offers of unconsciousness. He wishes all the things that are just...wrong...could be so easily righted. He knows there's no relief in his dreams. He hopes there was, but...there isn't. Not really.

When they hit the road, the radio leaps to life in time with the engine. Usually.  
There is no music now, and a part of his consciousness claims, _knows_, that something's off. Something's up, even more than what's passed for 'normal' since...

Since all that stuff he doesn't want to think about, so he curls away from memories.

When Dean pulls over, gets out without a word, his somberness sobers Sam from sleep to scare in seconds.


	5. Simon Said

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Why would I want to steal the lovely boys!boys!boys! of Winchesterverse while Kripke & co. are doing such a wonderful job of breaking them?

_Thank You, everyone!  
There's a new episode in the horizon! And then a loooong wait...-snif-  
Time machine! We need a time machine!_

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
205: Simon Said**  
_by Sade Lyrate _

_(You wouldn't believe how many ideas I tried for this one...)_

The first time, they assault him in full force when he's alone, unable to flee or find shelter. It's rough and rapid, and leaves him raw, barely able to make sense of the dim lights, the dilapidated restroom. His breath harsh, his mind scrambling to understand, he vehemently refuses to pen how he feels into words.  
And then there's Dean, and the world is a little bit better again.

The second time, he sends a quick prayer at the first flash, hoping it won't be that bad this time, that it'll pass quickly, and keeps the pressure on the boy.  
What he wins in time, he loses in kindness. He flees the fire only to find himself on the ground with no idea how, or when, Dean's by his side. Again, there are the words he stubbornly rejects, fluttering in the corners of his mind.

The third time he tries to push it away because what Andy's saying is _important_, damn it, and they'll get to Webber before he can hurt anyone else, and - and he watches Tracy jump off the dam.

And he just wants out, _now_, leap off this crippling train of thought and leave it all behind.  
When Dean's voice, his touch, warm and alive and _safe_ seep into his consciousness, Sam doesn't know if he's happy to be breathing or not. The words lurk ever closer, but since they cannot possibly apply to him, he tries to ignore them.

He's not even sure if there ever comes a fourth time, or how much of it is dream, how much real, his head still a mess he can't find his way out of, remarks leaking and bleeding and overlapping, twisting the knife in his heart, ramming the words he has avoided into his soul until he can't deny them anymore. When he surfaces, broken, Dean is near even though he shouldn't be and his soul's darned together again, another bad guy dead.

But the words ring true inside his head.  
Though he tries to forget them, they remain rooted to the spot, mocking him, distractedly making him realize that no matter how many times Dean calls him 'Sammy' (_not since Gordon was left tied up in Red Lodge_), no matter what Dean does...there are some things he can't protect his little brother from.


	6. No Exit

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.  
Disclaimer: I understand Ellen, I like her, I condone her deeds. But she is mine just as much as anything else in the Winchesterverse.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
206: No Exit**  
_by Sade Lyrate  
(Can't help but feel there's something amiss with this...apologies.)_

It wasn't that she didn't trust the boys. It wasn't that they were in Philadelphia instead of Montreal. It wasn't that she was older, now.

She knows Dean didn't lose Jo on purpose. She knows Jo didn't get herself caught on purpose. She knows the boys are experienced and smart, good hunters. More so than their father had been, all those years ago. She knows Dean, or Sam, isn't John.

But against the breath-stealing rush of memory sensations, more than a decade old...what can rationality do?

Against the flashback, so vivid in all its details, the phone under her fingers, the smell of spilt alcohol, the voice of a Winchester ringing in her ears, promising to get her loved one back...how can logic win?

Against the cold reality of mortality, the threat of the Hunt...what does a smattering of years matter?

She fights the tears, knowing they won't change anything, the loss of Will a wound she thought healed. Her motions as she books a flight, packs a bag, tells Ash to keep an eye on the place automatic and clipped.

Last time, she could do nothing. Not before, not during, become a grieving widow after. Jo pulled her through then.  
Now, fear drives her with devotion toward an early grave.

What she prays for is that it won't have 'Joanna Beth' on the headstone.


	7. The Usual Suspects

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.  
Disclaimer: Even though Kripke & co. seem to guess correctly what I'd like to see happening to the boys, I still don't own anything Supernatural.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
207: The Usual Suspects**  
_by Sade Lyrate  
(I kept messing up the male cop's name. I'm still not 100 sure it was Sheridan and not Sinclair...  
damn you, B5...;))_

They leave the lights of the city behind them in silence.  
Truth be told, neither one of them feels at ease enough to have idle chit-chat and Sheridan's intentions are too clear to discuss.   
Transferring a suspect in the middle of the night with radio silence?

Even granted the benefit of doubt, Sam can hardly believe those intentions spell anything 'good' for them.  
After all, Sheridan silenced Claire, probably the Gileses, too.  
'Why them', though, is a question he'll happily let Ballard ask, once he's gotten Dean back, safe and sound.

If that's impossible, if they're already too late...

Dean was there taking care of him after Mom...  
Dean was there for him after Jessica...  
Dean was there with him, in a way, after Dad...  
...

The only thing Sam can think of now, as the miles flow under them, the night around them filled with fears...  
_...how many lives can Dean possibly have?_


	8. Crossroad Blues

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: I still don't have the rights to even a small corner of the Winchesterverse.

_Looks like FF's email-alerts are shot. Damn.  
Incidentally, Crossroad Blues has one of the more intriguing minor characters I've seen...I wish this little snippet does him justice. :)  
_

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
208: Crossroad Blues**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

_November, 1996_

Nervous, he glanced around.  
There were noises coming from the tavern, the hum of human voices leeching into the night outside.  
His breath was fogging, the night cool, stars cold in the cloudless sky above him. He could feel the slight buzz from the beers he'd downed before. Something sharp within him, mouth dry even though he'd thought this through a thousand times and then some.

Another glance, deep breath, and he picked up the shovel, struck the hard ground, the pebbles fleeing him as he dug. The pit didn't need to be deep. Just enough to swallow the small box and its contents.  
The key, his grandma had said, was to get all the elements.

Graveyard dirt, black cat's bone, yarrow flowers bound with twine.   
A personal effect to identify.  
Crossroads under, above, around.

The time of the day didn't matter, though night was the most potent.

And, damn it, he wanted to get something more than just drinks out of his life. All he needed was a little push. A little help.

Something to make him remembered.

So he dug a shallow grave for a tin coffin with its remains, smoothed the ground. His ears perked, trying to spot anything different in his surroundings.

Nothing.

The stars didn't shift. The air didn't sparkle. The sounds didn't shut off.

Wary, he rose to his feet.

"You beckoned?"

The smooth voice made his head whip around.

A woman, her eyes clear against the darkness of her skin, her hair a cloud around her head, her body clad in a single-piece pink slip-on.

He swallowed, surprise shifting to joy.

"Who are you?"

She circled him, eyes flashing red in the twilight, moves like a predator's.

"Is that why you called me?"

He followed her, gaze straight. Dealing with devils, you had to know your game, keep it short and sweet, avoid loopholes.

"I want to be an artist. I want to be able to paint. I want talent."

She tilted her head, shark's smile upon her lips.

"And what would I get out of this deal?"

"Me. Give me ten years of talent, and you'll have me."

She smirked, stepped forward, her hands shooting out to draw him down into a kiss.

"Then talent you shall have. One long decade with your heart's desire."

With her whisper in his mouth, he opened his eyes to see her gone, inspiration stretching within his soul like a siren.


	9. Croatoan

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Kripke & co. own me, heart, body and soul. Dear deities, how they own me...

_This, then, shall be the beginning of a hiatus for the next few weeks. Enough for me to recover from the first rush of getting my weekly Supernatural fix again...;)  
I hope all of you who have read these snippets have enjoyed them, and will again in the future.  
Considering they're mostly flow of consciousness ramblings, I'm surprised by the positive feedback I've gotten. Thank You, everyone._

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
209: Croatoan**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

The words sink in with trepidation, cold as quicksilver, even as his body sinks back to the floor.

_It's over._

A momentary slip, false faith in safety, and his life's over.   
Everything, _anything_, that could have been wiped away by underestimation.  
In a matter of mere hours, he'll turn homicidal, shift from a hunter to hunted, demon-bound even more than he already suspects, fears, _feels_ in the darkest hours himself to be.

In the end, Dean helps him up, eyes dark with death and determination as he casts a look at Sarge, anyone who protests.  
Even Sam as he tries to shrug off Dean's hand, the words he said so long ago, yet but a handful of months before returning to haunt him.

_"...when this is all over, you're gonna have to let me go my own way."_

Who could have guessed 'his way' would be getting infected with a demon virus and being put down like a rabid dog?

He'd laugh if it wasn't all so...stupid? Painful?  
_...relieving?_


	10. Hunted

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: If I claim it followed me home, can I keep it?

_Well, back on the bandwagon. A_ lot _late, too, but...Vicissitudes stole my writing time._

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
210: Hunted**  
_by Sade Lyrate  
(May make no sense, even if you've seen 1x10 and 1x22. In addition to, of course, 2x10.)_

His hits stun Gordon, buy him precious slivers of seconds to gain the upper hand. Dark eyes focus on him, meet his gaze halfway down the barrel of the gun.

Past and present swirl in confusion, memories a mess.  
His ears hear Gordon, his mind listens to voices so much more familiar...

_"Do it!"_

It's all wrong. He knows he's in Indiana, the police can't be but minutes away, this isn't Illinois, there's a different man on the floor.

_Man.  
Not a monster._

But for a blink, it's so hard to tell.

_"You shoot me, son!"_

Every part of him urges him to pull the trigger (_End it_), get back at the bastard for everything.

_"Sammy!"_

But now there's no Ellicott.  
There's no salt charge in the gun.  
There's no Demon, no Colt.

There's only Gordon.

There's only Sam.

And something snaps.


	11. Playthings

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Let's just say that if the Winchesterverse was mine, an episode named "Playthings" would have been so very, _very_ different...;)

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
211: Playthings**  
_by Sade Lyrate  
(This? Because I can't skip an episode, Tyler's introductory line in the presence of the boys picked my curiosity and...meh. The Muse/Bunnies don't like me.)_

"And then I get another turn!"

"No, you don't!"

"Do too!"

"Do not!"

"Do too! Look! It says so in the rules!"

"No, it doesn't!"

"Yes, it does!"

"Stop it. You're being mean."

"I'm not. That's just the rules."

"If you don't stop, I'm gonna tell Mommy."

"And what will 'Mommy' do?"

"You'll see!"

"Tyler..."

"Mommy! Maggie's being mean."


	12. Nightshifter

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Me? How could I possibly own anything that renders me a sobbing mess every damn week? (Other than the Supernatural Season 1 DVD Boxed Set, but...;))

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
212: Nightshifter**  
_by Sade Lyrate  
(I loved this episode, if only because of Hunter!Sam...so of course I'm squeeing too hard to get a single coherent thought together concerning what happens _in _the episode...)_

They left the Inn with thoughts on destiny and darkness, picked a path, followed it to the crossroads. Sam's facade flickered, desperation slashing out between the cracks, driving him.

News lured them in with carrot-like promises of salvation, every person saved a speck of dust helping to balance the scales. Every drop of blood threatening to topple the cup. Every instance of impending doom sharpening Sam's edge, honing the hunter in him.

They were passing through Janesville when news of robbery/suicides reached their ears. No word from Ash, no visions, no plan beyond "Keep Sam safe", so they decided to check it out.

After all, that couldn't promise them any more troubles than they already were in, right?

So when they next took to the road, there was a new shadow in Sam's eyes, new pain to Dean's paranoia.  
New spoke on the wheel of fate.


	13. Houses of the Holy

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: I've finally come to my senses and realized the best thing to do is to pray (and plead and cry and cajole) that Kripke and Co. are allowed to keep on trucking.

_Yeah, another one of those. Apologies._

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
213: Houses of the Holy**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

His back turned for just a second, and that's all it takes.

The world stops.

_"I do pray everyday. I have for a long time."_

This shouldn't be happening, they're in a church, on hallowed ground, supposed to be safe from all the ghosts and ghoulies.  
Broken words stammer through his mind, his fears verified with Pastor Jim's face.

_NopleaseGodno-!_

The world teeters on the edge.

Pulse paces beneath the pads of his fingers, there's no injury he can see. Sam twitches, opens his eyes.

And the world turns again.


	14. Born Under A Bad Sign

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: If I'd own any of this, I'd understand the reasons behind all the episode-names. Probably.

_Thank You, everyone who bothers to read these. Shared pleasure's the best pleasure...;) _

_There were so many juicy instances begging to be elaborated on in this episode...  
How to pick only one? And manage to do something not done several dozen times?_

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
214: Born Under A Bad Sign**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

Instincts and fears urge him to ignore the speed limits, force the car to get where he needs to be faster than this. If he's right (_the phone line's cut_), if Sam's going to kill more people...

_No._

He can't lose either. Not Sam (_never Sam_) and Bobby's one of the few things left from the time before the evil sons-of-bitches declared a war with Jessica, Jim and Caleb's blood.

Dawn draws closer, tests the morning with long fingers, the asphalt shifting to dirt. He kills the engine and looks at the house. Can't believe how many months have passed between waking to a changed world, broken dreams, and now.

Gingerly he gets out, feels the flask in his pocket, the inherent irony of Holy Booze bleached with the seasons.

Doesn't really know what he'll do if (_not_)Sam's inside, wearing Bobby's entrails like jewelry.

The door opens, shotgun greets him, sharp eyes size him up.

"Was wondering when you'd show up..."

The muttered words tell him all he needs to know, all the greetings necessary, relief mutual. He nods grimly at the elder hunter as he walks up, enters the house that has never seen good days. And there's Sam, dead to the world, tied to a chair in front of the fire place.

"Seems like I worried in vain."

"You thought a demon could jump me?" There's a glimmer of laughter in the familiar eyes, skimming over the hardness. "I remember more than enough tricks to keep me alive for a while longer, Dean. And your Daddy was the only bastard I know more paranoid than me."

It's so hard to remember it's not Sam, not really, out cold, helpless. That it wasn't Sam who called him, frantic, knuckles bruised and shirt bloody. With the gun.

"Did you-"

Bobby's voice is soft as he answers, eyes dancing between the two of them.

"Not yet. Was about to start, though."

Something cold slithers down his spine, stark against the burn in his shoulder.  
It feels like a death sentence on his soul, the noose ever so slightly tighter around his throat, the axe that much closer.

"Let's get to it, then."


	15. Tall Tales

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: If I owned any of this, Sam would've been wearing the tighter shirts of season 2 already in season 1...or at least they would've shrunk in the washing machine.

_This? Just because I couldn't believe my eyes when I saw the money clip...;) As it is, the only reason I'm letting this see daylight is that I'd hate to miss a week and this one was the only thing I could think of. Apologies for that.  
Oh, and these'll go on a hiatus, probably, again. Just for as long as it takes me to finish Schattenfreund...or an inspiration strikes._

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
215: Tall Tales**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

It's not the money he'd miss. It's meant to exchange hands, move, be a means to an end. It's the realization that he failed to notice them going missing that makes him edgy. It's the losing of one of the few things left from Jessica. One of the very few things that's ever belonged solely to Sam Winchester, no one else.

It's not much, it's nothing like the Impala, but it's _his_. It survived the nightmares, it survived the fire, it survived the crash. It's almost the only thing his initials have ever so indelibly graced. And it's a gift from Jess.

First the laptop. Now this, and neither one of them's in the mood for jokes.


	16. Roadkill

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...   
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: I'm just playing with the pretty boys. I promise to give 'em back completely unspoilt, with their virtues intact. -crosses fingers- 

_Definitive first for me, since I usually abhor first person-POV. Reading as well as writing it, because these characters belong to Kripke and his camarilla of co-writers...how could anyone possibly claim to be able to correctly describe their thoughts and headspace?   
So, yeah, complete drivel. Let's just say that the song got to Dean...;)_

_With great Thank Yous to H.T. Marie for figuring out how to post!  
-bows- _

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2   
216: Roadkill**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

It's easy to let Sam keep an eye on Molly. He can share and care a whole hell of a lot better than I ever could.

And that'll hopefully keep Molly here, away from Greeley, but close enough for it all to work. Assuming, 'course, that he can't zap up there in a blink of an eye.   
With any luck, that'll keep Sam from tangling with homicidal ghosts, too. Granted, I don't think they're after us, exactly, this time. Usually spirits aren't really that worried about who gets caught in the crossfire. And Lady Luck has a screwed up sense of humor.

Oh, and check out the decor. After that hunting cabin, I was expecting the oven hot with dinner of cabrit sans cor. At least this time, the playmate's of the usual sort. Make that two, though she's out worse than a freakin' snowman.

Wonder where Greeley's wife vanished? What she's been up to these last 15 years? This dump doesn't seem like anyone's exactly been living here for a while...

No sounds from upstairs.

Sure, Sam might have been defeated by all the dust mites, but...

Damn it. There's nothing down here anyway. And if Mrs. Dead-And-Lovin'-It is digging his heart out...

Maybe it wasn't such a grand idea to leave 'em alone.


	17. Heart

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Bummer. I'm married to a wrong man, 'cause the surname still doesn't say 'Kripke', no matter how much I squint.

_This episode killed the bunnies. And fucked up the Muse for good measure.  
Thus, my offerings shall be meager.  
Wild, wild speculation and a curious way of counting ahead. With spoilers for a couple of episodes from both seasons._

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
217: Heart**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

One is Sammy's small, four-year-old fingers around the butt of a gun. It looks massive in his hands, Dad's hands easily covering his as Dad shows him how to hold it, take aim, pull the trigger. One is hearing the gun go harmlessly off.

Two is too clear a shot in the dark, Sammy's face scared as he peers from under the covers at the now empty room. Two is bruises from the kick of the .45 the next day, and a lesson concerning the fear of the dark.

Three is a vengeful spirit with Dad digging up the grave and Sam hurt and you hurt, and the salt's too far away when you feel the ghost grab your leg and lift you again. Three is a crack, and it's not from your bones, but from the shotgun in Sam(my)'s hands just before you drop, and Sam(my)'s eyes roll back in his head. Three is waking up later to tight-lipped Dad and scolding, though the only words you hear are _I love you_.

Four is the final straw, too close, and afterwards you watch him pack his bag, head out on his own. Four is too many choice words and wondering _What the hell did I do wrong?_

You're pretty sure Sam(my?) doesn't pack to the school, that he stays indoors after dusk, among people and books instead of prowling through abandoned buildings and graveyards, forests and back alleys. So you continue counting again when, smoke-stained and flame-fondled, he sits beside you in the Impala and Dad's _gone_.  
Though not as gone as Mom. Or Jessica.

Five is a chestful of rock salt and the blessedly impotent clicks of an empty gun, your fist connecting with his jaw enough to take him out of the picture for the while. Five is remembering the shapeshifter, and wondering just when and how Sam realized it wasn't you. Five is thinking you're even, now, though what's past is past and you've already forgiven him.

Six is the echo of every damn bell ringing out "Doom! Doom! Doom!" and Dad _down_. Six is horror and relief, for Seven is saved for the future and the Demon's gone for the moment, and you, all three of you, are still alive. It doesn't matter for how long, it's enough for now.

Seven is pain that goes past physical, even though you know it's not your Sam(_my_) raising the gun, cocky and remorseless. Seven is lies that sound too true, and you hate the fact that the little bitch knows you so well.

Eight is Sam shooting Madison, the bullet hitting Hope in the heart. Eight is trying not to think about what era's end it heralds, because the shot spells it out all too plainly.

And all the while, you wish and pray (even though you're not the praying type, haven't been for over 23 years now) that number Nine won't be his final.  
Your own count you lost long before his fourth, but 'the last one' has always been the one you've dreaded anyway.


	18. Hollywood Babylon

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...   
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: Kripke's got the guys. I'm just angsting the heck out of 'em for no profit and FUN! Erm. I mean, of course, no fun. :) 

_Yup, still peddling the same crap. But, hey, this and the following couple? Are what I couldn't help but think about while watching the eps._

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2   
218: Hollywood Babylon**   
_by Sade Lyrate_

It's not exactly a lie he tells Dean.   
He _is_ burying himself in work, trying not to think about Madison (_Jessica_). 

He's not ready to deal with all that her death stands for, number the consequences of her murder _(salvation)_. 

But the movie ghost's a bust, and when they leave the old actor's house, he can feel the waves of thoughts starting to crash over him, turn his boat upside down and drown him without anything to distract them. 

Then there's another murder.   
And Dean's happier than a duck in the water, and Sam can't remember when his brother last seemed so...content?... that he clings onto Dean's lead, tries to hide in his shadow. Make himself as small a target as possible. 

Somewhere, though, he knows the clock's ticking, the crosshairs zooming in on him. 


	19. Folsom Prison Blues

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...  
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.  
Disclaimer: Nothing's what I'm getting out of these, money-wise, at least.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2  
219: Folsom Prison Blues**  
_by Sade Lyrate_

Sam's tense all the time these days.

So maybe agreeing to getting behind bars to RIP some sorry ghost isn't one of the brightest ideas Dean's ever had, but at least it lets Sam pour himself into the hunt, into the job. At least it forces Sam to remain on the edge because of the very real physical danger, not because of some fatalistic, immaterial crap that's _possibly_ about to hit the fan.

And, hey...  
They're saving lives, saving people. That's what Sam wanted, right? To off-balance some metaphorical scales with 'Good Deeds'?

Still...  
Wandell's obituary is written with fire, Madison's blood doesn't leave their hands no matter how many times they try to wash it off.

But it's all worth it when they get away, and Dean can only imagine the look on Hendrickson's face.


	20. What Is And What Should Never Be

Summary: A collection of snippets, depicting possible scenes either never taking place in front of a camera, or ideas/thoughts/emotions hard to relay via that media...   
Warning: The tense may vary from piece to piece, as will the length and POV. **Spoilers** about for **Season 2** of Supernatural.   
Disclaimer: It's called fanfiction because we don't have the rights to any of this.

* * *

**COGITATIONS 2   
220: What Is And What Should Never Be**   
_by Sade Lyrate_

The _stupid jerk_ hangs up on him, doesn't let him finish. Doesn't come and get him, either. And by the time the uneasiness really rams home, he's already out there, trying to remember the area Dean told him about. 

The clock's ticking, his cell remains quiet, his calls unanswered. 

_ Dean wouldn't do this._

He 'borrows' a car, painfully aware of all the stupid stunts his brother's capable of pulling, of the myths and legends and how they're always, _always_ too good to be true. There's a bog at the end of rainbow, not gold. The frog's poisonous instead of a prince. The faeries are _terrific_... 

It's been but hours, every minute wearing down his hope, every empty building chipping away his confidence. 

He nearly breaks out in praises when he spots the solid shadow of the Impala.   
Nothing could prepare him for what awaits him inside, though. 


End file.
